Save Her
by TwilightTales
Summary: She has cancer, he must save her. Clasping pinky fingers is a promise that they will see each other tomorrow, and he must ensure that tomorrow ALWAYS comes. ONE SHOT. EXB. RATED T.


**This is a little one shot, inspired by a story I heard recently about a little girl with cancer.**

**I hope you all enjoy.**

**EXB RATED T**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Save Her<strong>_

I could still remember the day that little girl was brought into the Seattle ER.

It had been twenty years ago and yet I could still smell the disinfectant in the corridors, and I could still hear the numerous children talking nonsense to their parents along the children's wards.

The memories never went away.

I was only 30 years old then, and so I was one of the younger doctors at the time. That meant I got to work the shitty hours.

It was 3am, and I'd been called to the ER because a little four year old girl had been brought in by her parents.

Her little face was pale, scared and undeniably ill.

Brown eyes searched my own as I took her hand and led her into one of the treatment rooms. Her symptoms were explained, and my stomach churned as the puzzle pieces were clicked together and I came up with my diagnosis.

Cancer.

We did tests which confirmed my fears, and I got the little girl one of the best rooms in the hospital on my ward.

I visited her every night, even when I wasn't working.

Something drew me to her.

I wasn't sure if it was her helpless face, framed by her long brown hair. Or if it was her secret smile, the one she wore when I sneaked her chocolate when her parents weren't looking.

Maybe it was our secret promise to each other, clasping our pinky fingers together every night in a promise that we'd see each other the next day. A simple gesture, but a profound one.

Thinking back now though, I reckon it was because I had a child of my own just a year older than she was.

And if it had been my own child lying in that bed I could never have been as strong as her parents were.

The cancer was vicious. Her parents begged me to save her, they begged me for hope.

Of course, there wasn't much I could do that hadn't already been done before.

And not every child survived this disease.

It seemed that the little girl was just another odd.

She went through numerous treatments, all conducted by me. I didn't trust anyone else to handle this precious little girl.

Her parents stayed with her throughout the treatments too, and afterwards when she rested they would leave and get some coffee and a little shut eye.

It was torturous to see them so drained, because all the energy they had, they were almost pushing it into their baby girl.

While her parents were gone, I would sit with her. She'd wake up and ask me to read her a story.

Her favourite book was the same one my own child loved so much, so I knew it by heart. I would watch her as I recited the lines, she would fiddle with her blanket, a soft smile on her features.

We talked a lot too. I would help her set up her tea set, and we'd pretend to have tea together every Tuesday morning.

She told me she wanted to be a doctor, and I told her she'd make a brilliant one.

Her favourite colour was brown.

Her favourite song was from The Lion King.

Her favourite movie was Snow White.

She was a perfectly happy, beautiful little girl.

When the cancer got really bad, she could barely lift her head from the pillows for a few weeks.

She still insisted I read to her, and she still made sure we had tea every Tuesday.

Her parents had cried to me one evening, asking me what would happen.

Were they going to lose their little girl?

And one thing that struck a cord with me, was when her dad asked if he'd ever get to walk her down the aisle.

And I couldn't answer.

I'd gone home to my wife that night, and I cried as she held me.

I felt so hopeless, so out of control... I wanted to be a doctor to save lives, but how could save them if God didn't let me?

"It'll be okay." She told me, "You did your best."

I couldn't answer. Because if that was my best, I wasn't a very good doctor was I?

That same night, my young son saw my tears.

He came right over to me and took my hand.

Looking down at his little face I felt defeated and heartbroken.

But yet he looked at me like I was the best person on the planet.

"Daddy, stop crying." He pleaded softly, "She'll be okay."

He knew everything about the little girl in the hospital bed. I'd talked about her countless times at the dinner table with him and my wife.

He knew her just as much as I did, and he'd never even met her.

His eyes lit up every time I talked about her. He even called her perfect before.

"We don't know that she's going to be okay, son." I'd told him brokenly.

"She has to be okay." He frowned, squeezing my hand tightly, "You need to save her. Save her, daddy. Save her for me."

I stared down at him that night, wondering what I would be doing if it was him that was so sick.

Would I agree to more treatments for him? That could make him better but potentially make him weaker and end his life quicker than normal?

Yes. I would.

So the next day at the hospital, I asked her parents if they wanted to continue with treatments. Her little body might get weaker quicker, or it could turn her life around and save her.

They asked me what I would do.

I told them I'd do it in a heartbeat.

Anything to help save her.

So we went ahead with the treatments.

We fought, and so did that little girl.

She got very weak at first, unable to open her eyes, never mind utter a sentence.

And then it all turned around. She got stronger, she got healthier.

She was calling my name from her hospital room, shouting for me to get my ass down the corridor so we could have tea together.

We ran the same tests we did after she came into the ER, and that little girl... She was better. She got the all clear.

Even now, as I remember all this, I can still feel the pressure of her hug as I stood at the hospital doors and said goodbye to them.

She was going home.

And she told me she loved me.

"I love you too." I told her, clasping her pinky finger with mine in a promise.

As I waved goodbye to them, her father placed his hand on my shoulder, "I won't walk her down the aisle." He told me, tears in his eyes, "You will."

"Sorry? What?" My eyes had widened at him.

"If it wasn't for you I would've never have had the chance to anyway... And she's as much your daughter as she is mine."

I hugged him tight, thanking him gently before I let the family go on their way.

That night, as I told my family I'd saved her, I had never seen my son and my wife look so proud, or more happy.

I thought that day would be the last time I'd see her, but it wasn't.

I got a phonecall the next Tuesday from her on her fathers phone, asking why I was late to tea.

Throughout her life I got regular updates on her. She graduated first place in high school, and then she went to college to become a doctor.

When her father told me, my mind flashed back to when she was sitting in her bed, telling me it was her dream.

And it had finally come true.

When she was 23 I got the phonecall that she was engaged, and I was shocked that her father remembered his promise to me.

It took a year to plan the wedding and sure enough, here I was today, holding her hand as she tried to breathe calmly outside the church.

"I'm going to fall." She was whispering, "Or else I'll get the vows wrong."

I didn't say anything, instead I just watched her.

Words could not describe how happy I was that I was seeing this moment.

Because this little girl deserved the world.

"What is it?" She asked, her eyes widening as she took me in.

"Nothing." I shook my head, "I'm just very happy that this is happening."

She smiled then, a breathtaking smile that mirrored the same image of that little four year old girl.

Except now, she was a beautiful 24 year old woman. Her hair was pinned up, her eyes were twinkling and shining as she stood before me in her white silk gown.

"Let's go." She whispered, kissing me on the cheek before she moved, wrapping her hand around my arm as I began to lead her inside.

The music was playing gently, and the guests stood up to greet her as she giggled softly to herself and let me lead her down the aisle.

Her eyes were on her husband to be, and I watched as he stared back at her with pure adoration and love.

He was a good man, and he'd take care of her.

I remembered speaking to him before the wedding, and he told me he'd been in love with her since the moment he heard her name.

At the end of the aisle, we stopped.

She turned towards me, holding up her pinky finger almost like a salute. I clasped it with mine gently, a tear rolling down my cheek as I kissed her forehead.

I moved then, taking her hand and placing it in his, "I'm proud of you, Bella." I told her.

She couldn't answer me, because tears were in her eyes and I knew the words would come out choked.

I turned towards her future husband, smiling at him, "You're a lucky man, Edward."

He just smiled brilliantly, "I know."

I moved to turn away from them, but his hand gripped my shoulder tightly and he pulled me in for a hug.

I could softly hear his sob as I hugged him back, listening to his shaky breath as he whispered in my ear, "Thank you, Dad. Thank you for saving her for me."

* * *

><p><strong>I sincerely hope everyone enjoyed. <strong>

**Did you suspect it was Edward at the bottom of the aisle?**

**Can you guys leave me a review to let me know what you thought of this?**


End file.
